


Greg

by tardisswimmingpool



Category: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:05:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3339644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisswimmingpool/pseuds/tardisswimmingpool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Random mystrade moments</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s nearly a romance for the movies-he and I. Me, the lonely and pathetic policeman who hides behind his badge like it can solve all his problems, and him, the high-power government official who radiates disapproval and disinterest wherever he goes. Two people without a chance at happiness in the world, and here we are. And I must say, it’s never been the same since meeting him. But perhaps the change is for the better.

He’s strange-not unnaturally strange, but not like the typical person you see walking down the street. He’s shy, but most people would never know it. His usual blank stare and flatline frown turn even the best people away from fear of his judgement-everyone, but me. He’s funny, although his jokes are scientifically/mathematically based, so most people think he’s just spewing out facts. On a nice day, instead of taking a walk in the park with a mate, he sits at home and writes in his journal. The way he speaks is so genuine and pure in the worst of times, and his view on the world is so abstract and wonderful although sometimes grim. Yes, he’s not normal, but since when is that a bad thing? 

What sort of things caused us to end up together are still undetermined. Fate? Well, I can’t say I believe in that sort of thing. Chance? More likely. Sherlock mainly. I never thought that someone so cold could be related to someone so purely human. But perhaps that means that that quality is hiding underneath his icy glare as well. Maybe it’s hiding inside us all-it just takes a little something more to awaken it. 

When I’m around him, it’s almost like nothing else in the world matters anymore. Before meeting him, my worst nightmares had become my best daydreams to escape the hell I was living in. The divorce, my alcoholism, my depression. None of that seemed real anymore. It seemed like a horror movie that was just playing in the background, and whenever I was frightened, I’d feel his arm wrap around me and tell me that it was all just the movie-there’s nothing to be afraid of. 

Sometimes I wake up at night and lie in bed, thinking what would’ve happened if we didn’t meet. The nightmares slither back, and I reach out for something to hold, and he’s there. 

He’s always there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft plays the piano

His fingers are very nimble on the keys, and the sound echoes in my head at night. I never thought of him as the pianist type, but the truth of the matter is that he's probably the best musician I've heard. I guess it runs in the family what with his brother being a violinist of sorts, but I must say it caught me by surprise when I walked in on a rendition of one of Beethoven's pieces, and discovered the beautiful cover had come from his hands. We have been dating for nearly 6 months, secretly mind you (it's not the best situation for either of us to "come out" yet), but he never once mentioned his love for music. Strange how we want to hide the things that make us who we are out of fear. 

Now that I know, Mycroft makes careful precautions to play only when he believes I am not around. Of course, that just leads me to coming home early without texting him more often. It's so beautiful hearing the notes upon entering the flat, and it pains me to not be able to congratulate him on yet another perfect performance. 

Today I'm planning on trying to play the piano myself. I've never had the gift of musical talent, but perhaps my partner will discover my train wreck and try to fix it. I can just imagine his hands hovering over my own, and guiding me in something simple such as "Mary Had a Little Lamb", and I'd mess up on purpose just so he wouldn't move his hands. 

"No, dear, like this," and he'd show me by moving my fingers again. "Simple."

He's so patient, so delicate. 

"There ya go," he'd say and smile at his handiwork as I play. 

It's such a pleasant image. 

The lights are on, so I know he is home when I pull up near the flat. I do my best to slip inside as quiet as a mouse as to not disturb him. Sure enough, the music fills my ears. 

Mycroft is sitting upright in front of his piano, and I spot him through the crack in the door that leads into the living room. The piano has been here since before I moved in, but I always thought it was for his mother's visits until I found out about Myc. I tip-toe up to the door and stretch my neck a little to hear better. In doing so, I lose my balance somehow and fall forward a bit, causing the door to creak. The music stops. 

"Gregory?"

"Please don't stop."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More mystrade thoughts

Music Prompts  
"So honey now  
Take me into your loving arms  
Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars  
Place your head on my beating heart  
I’m thinking out loud  
That maybe we found love right where we are” 

-Ed Sheeran

Picnics were never really Mycroft’s thing. They seemed tacky, overdone, not to mention he just didn’t like sitting on the ground where bugs or dirt could get onto the blanket. But Greg loved picnics, and what better way to celebrate his husband’s birthday, Mycroft thought, than having a late night picnic in the yard behind their little cottage in the country. That’s romantic, right? The skies were so much clearer out there than in the city where they both worked. It was a commute, but it was worth it. The country was beautiful. The sounds of cars roaring by doesn’t disturb the piece of the birds singing their final songs at sundown, and the arrival of the lightning bugs. He and Greg often imagined themselves running around and catching them with their son or daughter with all of them laughing and loving just being together. Maybe some day… 

But as for the picnic, Mycroft knew Greg was going to be home late, so it was perfect for setting the mood with the sun setting. Mycorft himself had left Anthea in charge and left work early so he could stop by the shop and get back in time to cook. Nothing special-just some fettuccine and salad. But Greg loved fettuccine. He didn’t used to, but Mycroft had made him try it on their first date, and there hadn’t been a day since when Greg turned down the dish. Mycroft could barely contain himself with his excitement to see him when he got home.

It was nearly 7 by the time he saw the familiar car come into the drive. He rushed out back to make sure everything was ready. 

"Myc!" The front door closed, and Mycroft ran back inside to greet him.

"Hey beautiful," he tried to sound sexy, but it sounded more goofy than he intended-Greg didn’t care. 

"Hey," he smiled in the kiss their shared. 

"I have a surprise for you."

"Oh really?"

Myc took his hand and led him outside. The look on Greg’s face is hard to explain, but, in simple terms, moved. He covered his mouth and laughed before hugging his husband.

"It’s beautiful," he exclaimed, his eyes scanning the food, the blanket, and the lantern. And, of course, the sunset.

"Come on, don’t let it get cold," Myc laughed.

The two ate and laughed together. When they finished, they lied down with Myc’s arm over Gregory’s shoulder. The sun was nearly gone, and they awaited the first sight of a star. Mycroft had always loved the stars. They were so magnificent as they glow in the sky. So natural, and yet he imagined himself out there traveling in some intergalactic adventure from a storybook. The wide open space of the cosmos. So many things to discover just waiting for him. It all felt so surreal. And what made the fantasy complete was that the man he loved was lying right beside him. 

The two looked at eachother and smiled. Nobody else had ever looked at Mycroft that way. He could feel what he was thinking without Greg even speaking a word. He could see it deep in his eyes. Passion, love, devotion. 

The two kissed and lied there together until Greg asleep. Mycroft didn’t even care about the dirt anymore. As long as Greg was at his side, he didn’t care what kinds of things were out there. He listened to the soft sound of Greg’s gentle breathing and shifted closer. He took in the smell of his partner one last time and closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

The clock struck six, and Greg entered panic mode. Mycroft was scheduled to be home in a half an hour and there was still so much to do in order for their night to be perfect. He still had to wash his hair and get dressed. The roast was still in the oven and he hadn’t even begun setting the table yet. Damn his confidence for making him believe he could get everything done in such a short amount of time. Precision and speed don’t work well with one another. But he couldn’t afford reality’s cruelty right then. After all, this was his and Mycroft’s six year anniversary and he wanted this to be a night to remember. 

 

There was the shrill cry of Greg’s mobile, and he stumbled out of the shower only to have his towel fall to his knees along the way to the bedroom. Dripping wet and cold, he launched himself towards the phone on the edge of the bed and hit “Accept”. 

 

“Hi, honey. You on your way? Dinners almost ready….just a sec.”

 

The timer buzzed and Greg ran to turn the oven off before the roast could burn. Unfortunately, he forgot he was dripping water everywhere and slipped. His phone crashed and slid across the floor while Greg lied there for a moment, naked and rubbing his knee which he had bruised on the way down. 

 

“Greg? Gregory, are you there?”

Greg groaned and reached for his cell. 

 

“Yea, I’m here. Sorry, I slipped.”

 

“Are you alright?” There was concern in Mycroft’s voice, but it seemed more directed towards another matter. 

 

“No worries. I’m ok. It’ll take a little more than that to get me down,” he laughed and ran his fingers through his wet hair. “I can’t talk long, lots to do. You’re going to flip when you see what I prepared for tonight. It’s going to be the best anniversary ever, I guarantee it.” 

 

“Yea…about that. Listen, babe, I don’t think I’m going to be home for awhile.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“I received report that my snooping little brother has been spotted with numerous members of his homeless network down by the river. I better go check on him and make sure he’s not getting into trouble.”

 

“But it’s our anniversary. Can’t you send somebody else to deal with it? And how do you know he’s not just doing some experiment with test subjects?”

 

“I can’t take any chances. He’s my responsibility. I’m sorry, Gregory. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

 

“Ok..” Greg sighed.

 

“Go ahead and eat. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Love you.”

 

“Love you.”

 

Greg sat there for a moment on the floor, contemplating his new evening plans. Looks like it was going to be dinner alone, again. Might as well ditch the roast and order takeout. And what about the romantic bubble bath with rose petals and the romantic comedy snuggle session on the couch? Guess it was going to be just him by himself in his underwear watching Doctor Who until he fell asleep. What’s new…

 

That night, Mycroft slipped into bed around 12, and Greg was still wide awake. He had heard his husband’s footsteps as he walked into the room, but he pulled the blanket over his head instead of acknowledging him. Suddenly, there was the warm sensation of Mycroft’s breath on his neck as the other man wrapped his arms around his waist. Greg said nothing.

 

“Can we talk?” Mycroft whispered, “I know you’re upset.”  
Silence.

“Sweetie, cut it out. I know you can hear me.”

 

Greg reluctantly rolled onto his other side so that he was within a few inches from his husband’s face. 

“Mycroft, I love you more than anything, but have you ever thought about how many times a month you cancel on me?”

“Has it been that many times?”

“Sherlock is a grown man, he has to learn to take care of himself. You’re not always going to be around to clean up his mistakes.”

“You speak as if my brother is an ordinary nuisance. He’s more like a threat to national security. This isn’t simply sentiment, it’s business.”

“I always thought there was a limit, you know?”

“Oh come on, Greg. You’re not really going to hold me to this, are you?”

“Can you blame me? All I wanted was some time to spend alone with you. A quiet evening, just the two of us. Is that too much to ask? Or maybe it’s just the hopeless romantic in me. 

“I see your point.”

“I’m sorry for yelling, but it’s hard sometimes. I mean, we both work so we barely get to see one another anyway. It would just be nice to be able to sit down and enjoy each other’s company without Sherlock budding his head into everything.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Mycroft eased a little closer so that their lips were nearly touching and breathed the following, “Tomorrow, I’m going to take the day off. Then, I’ll call Sally down at the station and say you’re sick,” he gently ran his fingers down Greg’s arm, “ I’ll make you breakfast, maybe a back massage. And after that, we can do whatever you want,” he kissed him, “Just the two of us.”

“Really?”

“Really. You, me, no Sherlock. I promise.”

_____________________________

The very idea of it seemed more like a fairytale, but Greg put his faith in his husband, and Mycroft pulled through. 

He had been awakened that morning by the smell of bacon sizzling in a frying pan along with the sound of Mycroft whistling cheerfully. Greg sat up and stretched, his bones cracking. Dammit, getting old was a chore. He sure hoped that suggestion for a back massage was still on the table. 

“Morning, sleepy head,” Mycroft beamed as his husband stumbled into the kitchen in his underpants with a nasty case of bedhead. “Hope you like chocolate chip pancakes.”

“I’m not a child Mycroft.”

“Does that mean you want the normal pancakes?” Mycroft smirked because he knew Greg would give in for his favorite snack. 

“I hate you so much.”

“Love you too!” Mycroft laughed and placed three pancakes on Greg’s plate along with a few slices of bacon. “ See, I told you I’d make you breakfast. Although, I was planning on surprising you in bed.”

“That’s just a sausage joke waiting to happen.”

“Don’t be vulgar,” but Mycroft laughed anyway. 

The rest of the morning was lovely. As they ate, Mycroft listened with his head in his hands like a lovesick teenager as Greg went on and on about something that happened at work. Greg knew all along that he wasn’t truly interested, but he appreciated the effort. In fact, it turns out Mycroft had been focused on the bit of chocolate in the corner of Greg’s mouth the whole time. To no one’s surprise, he leaped at the chance to kiss it off of him. 

After breakfast, Greg finally got that bubble bath he had wanted. The two of them soaked for nearly an hour until they were both pruning, but neither man cared. Mycroft rubbed his husband’s back in an attempt to be sensual, but Greg ruined the moment by making himself a beard out of bubbles. Puerile as it was, it was also charming somehow. 

“I’m totally pulling this off,” Greg laughed. 

“You look like Father Christmas.”

“Good. Because it’s time for your present,” he pulled the curtain back.

“I should splash you for that, but alright, I’ll play along” Mycroft managed a smile. 

That afternoon, the two of them went on a walk together, hand in hand (something Mycroft hardly ever did).

“Myc, you sure?” referring to Mycroft’s previous fear of drawing too much attention to themselves.

“What’s the point of hiding it? I’m not ashamed” Mycroft replied.

Greg smiled and placed a quick peck on his husband’s cheek. The act received a glare from a homophobic passerby, but at that moment Greg didn’t care enough to flip him off. The day was too perfect to worry about what other people thought. 

“You want to grab some lunch?” 

Mycroft led him around a corner to a small bistro with a name Greg could never pronounce. It was a playful, little place where the two of them had shared their first date. Greg remembered it well because he had tried to recreate the famous scene from the Lady and the Tramp and he ended up staining his tie with red sauce because he had leaned forward too much. 

“I made reservations this morning,” Mycroft’s face lit up, causing Greg to fall in love all over again. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” 

Mycroft didn’t answer, but instead grabbed Greg’s arm and rushed toward’s the entrance. Cars honked at them as they passed, and Greg screamed for him to watch out, but Mycroft ignored him. 

“Who are you today?” Greg laughed.

“I’m the man who hasn’t done his part to give his husband the time of his life. It’s time to fulfill my end of the bargain.”

Lunch was glorious, and that’s not a word Greg used lightly. Candles, music, the whole works. Mycroft made reservations all right, he reserved the entire restaurant! 

“Are you kidding? How did you do this?”

“Greg, are you forgetting what I do for a living? It didn’t take much for me to pull a few strings,” he held out his hand, proposing a dance.

“You know I don’t dance,” Greg whispered.

“Last I recall, you were the master of something called the sprinkler.”

The two danced for awhile and then sat down to eat. Spaghetti, if you can believe it, was the main course. Greg raised an eyebrow at his husband, and Mycroft returned the favor with a cheeky grin. 

Dinner wasn’t quite as magnificent. In fact, it was rather ordinary. However, that is what Greg cherished most about it. Yes, supper was merely a bowl of popcorn that the two fought over while watching television together on the couch. The fighting wasn’t necessarily for the food itself, but rather who could catch the most pieces in their mouths without dropping them. So far, Mycroft had the record, and he refused to let Greg beat him. Unfortunately for his husband, that meant unsuspecting spurts of tickling that caused him to enter a fit of laughter. Eventually, this resulted in the entire bowl being tossed into the air and falling on top of both of them.

“You have some popcorn in your hair,” Mycroft chuckled.

“Oh really? I..didn’t..notice,” his sass was welcomed as Mycroft slapped him playfully.

“You didn’t really think I was going to let you win, did you?”

“It was a long shot, but, hey a guy can dream.”

The two smiled for a long time, staring into each other’s eyes like in the ending of a cliche romantic flick. 

“You’re beautiful,” Mycroft said.

Suddenly, the phone rang.

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

“Nope.”

Greg grinned.

“Happy anniversary, Gregory.”

“Happy anniversary.”


End file.
